The Cloak

By Caitlin H., Winston-Salem, NC

As I peer into the thick and gloomy undergrowth of the shadowy forest, I ponder with some trepidation the dark and treacherous path before me. It is for the sake of my father that I stand so reluctantly at the edge of this dangerous wood in the dead of winter. My father has been gravely ill ever since my mother died – he is detached from his surroundings, nearly blind, and completely mad. He refuses to eat, to drink, to move; he simply stares silently out the window at my mother’s grave. He recognizes me only when I wear the pure white cloak that once belonged to her.

Many miles through the forest, my aging grandparents dwell in an isolated cottage, and only their knowledge of herbal remedies, potions, and spells can possibly save my father’s life. I have no choice but to traverse the forest in a desperate effort to cure him.